When change isn't really change.

I live in a neighborhood that is, well, homogenous. In my building there is only one Filipino resident - me. I've been asked before which apartment I clean by, well, Filipino babysitters in MY building. When I walk my dogs past a discount retail store, men unloading boxes call me the dog walker. So did one of my neighbors when he saw me regularly at noon giving my dog his medication. At least, no one is dumb enough to think I can watch children. This neighborhood has changed.

I was recruited to New York as an Equity Trader by a firm that suffered devastating losses on September 11. Initially, I viewed New Yorkers as abrupt or rude. They are not. I've learned to appreciate their polite directness that is never meant to be insulting or personal. They just cut to the chase. I learned to appreciate the inclusiveness of a city that is the most diverse in the nation. A recent census survey revealed 130 spoken languages by 47% of residents in Queens who come from 120 countries. I consider myself lucky to know a number of natives (those who are born and raised in the boroughs decades ago) in my neighborhood. Born in Queens, Brooklyn, and the Bronx who tell me stories about growing up and moving to Manhattan for cheaper rents. They tell me stories of old neighborhood storefronts on now concrete streets that used to be cobblestones. They tell me how September 11 caused cancer, respiratory illness, and pulmonary disease among those who lived south of Canal Street. They gave me a connection to their past. They welcomed me to their community. In turn, I understand why they think change is destroying their memories.

A decade later, pockets of the city started to feel different. Younger generations have moved in. Gentrification can bring someone into a silo by not establishing a connection to the community. Gone are the morning greetings with strangers. Gone is eye contact. Incidents on the street were watched and recorded as Instagram or TikTok posts instead of opportunities to help others. People live in one place and then move after a few years. Where is togetherness? Did New Yorkers become apathetic? Did Covid change us to prioritize "me" over "you"? What changed?

It is disingenuous to blame social media. But it has reared a generation that relies on electronic gadgets to "connect" with others. Less talking, more swiping. What is a community nowadays?

We have to be tolerant of change even if it puts some at a disadvantage. Change will not widen the gap of cultural differences between the natives and transplants. On the contrary, it forces us to live in synchrony. Imagine balancing a tray of glassware using weight distribution. Some are light champagne stems, others are heavier whiskey glasses, and still, others are lighter shot glasses. Then as everyone walks through the room someone puts a random unopened beer bottle on your tray. Good luck with that change.